The Red Pavilion

by Jean Chapman

  ‘Heads up!’ the police sergeant ordered and when this was not obeyed he detailed two constables, who went in and pulled the men’s heads upwards and backwards by their hair, pushing a rifle barrel under their chins. Some still kept their eyes closed, while others stared insolently into the eyes of the women who had worked for them so many years in their main jungle headquarters.

  Blanche went nearer, intending to stand behind Li Min where she had edged to the back of the circle. She also saw Chemor staring intensely at the girl, his black eyes reminding Blanche of those of a stoat she had watched hypnotise a full-grown rabbit before launching itself for the kill.

  Lee stepped into the circle while her mother remained more remote, more intimated some yards outside. As each head was lifted, Lee not only spat ‘Yes!’ into their faces but named the terrorists. At last they came to Li Min.

  Blanche held her breath as Lee looked at her long and hard. It looked like the meeting of arch-enemies. ‘Oh! Yes!’ Lee said at last as if savouring the moment. ‘She came many times, she brought information about army and police raids. Fancied herself as partner to Heng Hou!’

  Li Min seemed caught mid-reprisal as she leaned forwards to vent her spite on Lee, but Chemor shouted in the same split second, ‘Heng Hou, he told all about Li Min — he give away!’

  The Chinese girl looked like a venomous black spider as she sprang round on Chemor and launched a tirade of abuse in her own language. One or two of her companions, in spite of their own peril, gave verbal approval of the sentiments she expressed and became more arrogant in their manner.

  Blanche hated to see any initiative taken by the prisoners, futile though it might be, but she had reckoned without the deviousness and planning of a devoted employee and friend, for at that moment four soldiers went to the back of a police vehicle and hauled out another prisoner, whom they marched up to the group of suspects.

  ‘See your leader, Li Min! He spoke out about you! He told!’ Chemor pointed and danced about as if in ecstasy. Blanche watched in some amazement. He had seemed such a level-headed chap — devoted to George, but she had not expected this.

  Heng Hou was pushed forwards until he stood before Li Min. At a nod from Sturgess he was pushed the final yard so the girl had to jump back to avoid contact with him. It seemed the final act that broke her control. With her hands tied behind her back, her avoidance had a writhing, sensual quality, as if she was squirming away from a sexual advance instead of from a man securely bound.

  ‘Heng Hou! You said you never be caught,’ she accused. Chemor still capered like a mad monkey. ‘He caught! He talk!’

  Blanche glanced at John, expecting him to have George’s old tracker removed, but he seemed to pay no regard.

  ‘And I talk! I talk now!’ Li Min came forward, facing Heng Hou again but at a safe distance as he growled and shouted at her. Her voice rose higher and he was silenced by the nudge of a rifle butt.

  ‘He liar! He say he make me woman leader of communist republic, like wife of Mao Tse-tung. I say all right. Beat me and we trap “thorn in communists’ sides” George Harfield. He beat!’ She nodded and Blanche felt a pang of sympathy for the girl as she saw the horror of the experience reflected in her eyes.

  ‘He beat! He rape too!’ Her voice rose to a scream full of tears. ‘He rape like animal.’ The pitch of her voice fell almost to a whisper as she added, ‘Worse than animal. I hate ... ’

  Blanche closed her eyes momentarily, letting a prayer of thankfulness swamp her mind. George! She urged the message across the green jungles to Pudu Gaol. George, you’re free!

  On opening them again she saw Sturgess patting Chemor on the back. My God! she thought. It was all a put-up job between the two. Play-acting!

  George had always said Robbo was his best friend.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Blanche did not dare presume to take either Lee’s or Ch’ing’s arm or hand as they stood by Josef’s grave. She had told of the encounter and the shooting and led the two of them outside. She felt poised on the knife edge of their judgement.

  Ch’ing stood and looked for a long time, then she made a small gesture towards Neville’s grave. ‘He did not deserve,’ she said quietly.

  Blanche was not sure whether she meant Neville had not deserved his fate, or that Josef had not deserved her retribution. She relived the moments of their encounter and wondered yet again whether she had murdered Josef, or whether if she had not shot it would have been her grave alongside Neville’s.

  She started as Ch’ing linked an arm through hers and the two women went to sit on the seat overlooking the two graves.

  ‘Better he died at Rinsey,’ Lee said, ‘We had happy times.’ The girl’s eyes softened while her head shook at the memory of the boy and the double-dealing terrorist he had become.

  Liz came with Anna, as always practical, bringing iced tea. ‘A bad boy,’ Anna commented, looking down at the new grave, ‘but in no more trouble now.’

  ‘No,’ his mother said, ‘is blessing.’

  ‘Oh, Ch’ing, I’m so sorry.’ Blanche grieved for the truth of the mother’s remark.

  ‘It’s strange,’ Liz murmured, ‘but already I seem to see him better as the boy he was.’

  Lee came to her and linked arms. ‘We’ll bring flowers and gifts,’ she said, and her mother nodded.

  ‘We have lost so much.’ Ch’ing included Blanche in the remark. ‘Husbands ... ’

  ‘Much time,’ Blanche contributed, holding and patting the old lady’s hand, though bringing herself up with a start as she remembered Ch’ing could only be her own age.

  ‘Many years for us in the jungle,’ Ch’ing added. ‘Now we have to find work and place to live.’

  ‘You’ll stay here,’ Blanche reassured her, ‘for as long as ever you wish to.’

  ‘If there is workman’s house I would like,’ Ch’ing said. As Blanche looked as if she would protest, she added, ‘It’s what I want.’

  ‘Of course ... ’

  ‘And work tapping,’ Ch’ing added. ‘Please.’

  The politeness of the woman so fallen in her fortunes tore Blanche’s heart. ‘Whatever you want.’

  ‘We can both tap.’ Lee linked arms with her mother. ‘This is freedom for us here at Rinsey — to earn dollars! Wow!’ Lee raised her eyes to the sky at the thought, then, seeing Blanche still looking doubtful, she added, ‘We need time to open wings gradually — perhaps fly later.’

  ‘And we have a lot of shopping to do,’ Liz reminded her.

  ‘But first sleep to catch up,’ Blanche said. ‘Now the tension is over, I’m totally exhausted.’

  ‘G and T in bed?’ Liz asked. The offer seemed to tie another thread.

  ‘Darling, when everyone’s settled, marvellous!’

  Later that night, Liz came and sat on Blanche’s bed. ‘Like old times,’ she began, then shook her head. ‘No, not really. Everything’s changed, hasn’t it? You do like Alan?’

  ‘I do,’ her mother answered honestly. ‘I think he has the right kind of practicality you need.’

  ‘Really?’ Liz was totally surprised. ‘I never thought of him in that way.’

  ‘Of course not, you’re largely impractical,’ Blanche said with a smile lest her daughter should take it as criticism.

  ‘You can always surprise me, Mother.’

  Blanche laughed and held out her arms. Liz hugged and held her tight, closing her eyes.

  ‘Alan is being sent to the rest camp on Penang island,’ Liz said as they released each other. ‘I thought I might go up to stay in George Town so we could see something of each other.’ She drew in her breath slowly through her mouth, preparing for a sigh, then added, ‘He may be sent back to England quite soon.’

  ‘His health is not in question, is it?’ Blanche asked, anxious there should be no more heartache.

  ‘The scar is very sensitive still. John Sturgess thinks he might be sent home with an earlier demob number than his own.’

  ‘Then you mu
st spend as much time as you can together,’ Blanche said. ‘You have a lot to decide.’

  Liz nodded soberly.

  Once Blanche was alone, her thoughts moved from her daughter’s future to wondering if George yet knew his prospects had so radically altered. Robbo had promised to consult his colonel, Edwin Neillands, as soon as he was back at base. He and Inspector Aba had promised everything would be done to speed George’s release. But what about his job? And where would he live? She’d fit him in at Rinsey, however many seams she bulged was the decision which stilled the questions and allowed her to fall into sleep.

  The next morning Anna took a call while Blanche was supervising the improving of the quarters for Ch’ing and Lee. She came running out to them. ‘Major Sturgess, he say Mr George Harfield to be released at two o’clock. Can you pick up?’

  Blanche felt the colour rising in her cheeks and in the instant of relief at the news she realised she hadn’t blushed for years — couldn’t remember the last time.

  ‘Mother?’ Liz queried. ‘You knew he would be released.’

  ‘Yes ... it was just unexpected at that moment.’ She put down the brush she had been using. ‘I’ll probably leave you to organise the evening meal with Anna — for all of us. That OK?’

  She turned away and left them, aware of the silence behind her. Not until she reached her room did she remember that they had been in the middle of a discussion about bedroom furnishings to be taken from the bungalow for Ch’ing and Lee. She grimaced at the realisation but hurried to pull a favourite green cotton dress from her wardrobe. She was behaving like a love-lorn creature. No! She stopped in the act of opening her underwear drawer. No, she was behaving exactly like her daughter — rushing off after her man.

  She chose her fresh clothes feeling as if a mature woman was critically observing a young one as she flew about changing. Before she was quite ready, she broke off to go and find Chemor and tell him the news, and ask him once again to be her driver. She came back glowing. Chemor had wrung her hand heartily and imparted the information that it had been George who had taught him to drive.

  She had not brushed her hair so vigorously since she was a teenager, thinking it added the imperative shine to make her a social success. Then, dissatisfied with her appearance, she rushed back to her wardrobe, held a pink check dress up over the green, discarded it and just left, regardless of time.

  Inevitably, they were outside the prison early, and it was only as they arrived that she realised it was also one of the times visitors were allowed in. She recognised several of the people who had become familiar to her over the many visits she had made. They looked at her curiously when instead of joining the queue she went to stand on the far side of the prison gates.

  Eventually a clock chimed two and a wicket gate set in the larger gates opened. She immediately saw George, carrying his small case, turning to shake hands with the warder who had unlocked the gate. Her heart went out to him; she felt both rejoicing and sorrow. ‘Through the mill’ were the words that came to her mind as he stepped over the prison portals into the public gaze.

  His head went up and his lips parted in a smile as he saw her. She ran to him, caught his arm and kissed his cheek. There were ‘Aah!’s of approval, nods and smiles from the many waiting women.

  ‘So we’re lucky,’ she said. ‘I might have still been queuing on that side.’

  ‘I never thought — ’ He paused and frowned. ‘I never thought of you out here, waiting with everyone else. Do you know what I feel like? I feel like having what my mother would have called “a good blart”.’

  ‘You haven’t time.’ She nodded ahead to where Chemor stood beside the car, his grin so wide it looked impossible he should get all those teeth back behind his lips. ‘But you do feel all right?’

  ‘Better by the minute.’ He gave her waist a quick squeeze before they reached Chemor.

  George greeted his tracker with a hug, a handshake and a thump on the shoulder. There were tears in the Dyak’s eyes. ‘I glad see you, boss. Need you ... ’ Words escaped him. ‘ ... all place.’

  ‘Looks like I may be a bit of a wanderer, anyway,’ he said, holding tight to Blanche’s hand. ‘Where do we go from here?’

  ‘There’s always room at Rinsey,’ she told him, though the query in his voice reminded her of Ira Cook’s message. ‘Bukit Kinta is also available. Ira’s been summoned to a meeting in Singapore. He rang specially to say to regard the bungalow as your home as always.’

  George opted to go first to have a look at the mine. He was quiet as they drove. Leaning far back in the seat, he stared out at the countryside, but he was holding Blanche’s hand tight. She accepted his need for silence.

  ‘Not sure,’ he began, as Chemor swept the car triumphantly on to the track to the mine, ‘I’ll ever feel quite the same about this place. Well, of course, it isn’t my place to feel anything about, really … ’

  ‘Ira could opt for the New York office again, given a chance. And surely now you’ve been exonerated ... ?’

  Any further speculation was cut short as Chemor blasted on the car horn: three short bursts, three long, three short. He drew the car to a rapid halt in a miniature dust storm before the bungalow, turned triumphantly and announced, ‘V sign, boss,’ and repeated the performance on the horn.

  Blanche took one look at George’s face and burst into laughter. ‘What a discreet arrival!’

  There had been speculation among the staff about their former boss’s return. The hooter blast swept away all doubts and as George stepped out of the vehicle he was immediately cheered by several of his workers. A cry went up and in less than a minute people were flocking from all directions to greet him, the men wanting to shake his hand or pat his back, the women and children beaming, clapping and calling, ‘Welcome home! Welcome home, Mr Harfield, sir. Tuan! Tuan!’

  He raised his arms high and wide, greeting them all with equal enthusiasm. His colour too had risen, making him look much more himself; he was thinner, of course — but she could feed him up, Blanche found herself thinking.

  ‘That feels right!’ he said, beaming across at Blanche. ‘I can’t deny that feels right. I’ll stay here tonight, anyway.’

  He climbed on to the bungalow steps and raised a hand. ‘Thanks, my friends. You’ve made me very happy. It does me good to see you all again. Let me have tonight to rest up and find myself again and I’ll be round to see you all tomorrow.’

  They waved and cheered him as they went off back to their duties and their homes. Standing at George’s side, Blanche warmed to these self-effacing, warm-hearted people. She turned to find George watching her.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m thinking how much I like these people and how bloody mad it makes me feel to think of them being exploited.’

  ‘We’re only at the beginning of it,’ George said dourly. ‘This country’s got a long way to go before it stands up independent and rid of the scourge of gun-happy extremists.’

  ‘And you’ll stay and help?’ She was aware that there was a lot of feeling out of opinions and intentions going on. Was Liz telling her she would go back to England? Was she asking if George intended to stay in the Far East.

  ‘I’ve given a lot of my life to this country.’ He paused, looking out over the milky tin lakes where lilies proliferated. ‘I think I may be too old to go back to frosts and snows.’ He looked at her as if the real answer lay with her. ‘If I’m wanted, I’ll certainly stay.’

  ‘Send Chemor back to Rinsey,’ she said quietly, drawing him by the hand towards the bungalow. ‘Tell him to say I’m staying over at Bukit Kinta for tonight.’

  ‘I’ll never let you go from me again if you do this,’ he said in no more than a whisper.

  ‘You can’t be sure of that,’ she said, still smiling brightly as if to the retreating crowd.

  ‘I’m sure!’ he breathed, and the tone of his voice brought a response she felt had been unused for as long as her capacity to bl
ush.

  He beckoned to Chemor and gave him the instructions. The Dyak glanced at Blanche and she added, ‘You’ll see all the guards are posted, everywhere well-guarded?’

  Chemor acknowledged with a salute.

  ‘Fine!’ George approved. ‘See you tomorrow, my friend.’

  They stood in the doorway and watched him go as if he were the last guest at a prolonged party, watching until the Ford disappeared in the dust, so their solitude could be assured.

  George dropped his case to the floor and, catching her hand, pulled her to him, slipping his arm around her waist. The contact of their two bodies was electrifying. She had thought him like a rugger player when she had first met him; now she knew his fitness exceeded her expectations. He held her close for a few more seconds almost as if confirming that first sensation. It was vibrant, she could have told him. It was sensational.

  He lifted her and carried her to the bedroom, placed her back on her feet and began to take his own clothes off with a deliberation that had the most blatant sexuality she had ever known. She was so surprised and overwhelmed that she still stood fully clothed when he stood fully exposed.

  Then, instead of taking a step towards her, he stepped away as if placing himself as audience and invited her to follow his lead. She did. Neither too slowly nor too quickly, but with the discipline of experience. Yet the knowledge was tight between them that in neither of their lives had there been anything quite like this before.

  When she was naked she tossed up her chin and walked tall and proud towards him, feeling this was the most arousing thing she had ever done. If she had ever been ready to share love and sex with a man this was the moment.

  George lifted her as she reached him and they stood united — only afterwards did they go to the bed.

  *

  Early the next morning there were movements in the kitchen, noises of china being moved and smells of bacon being fried. George went to investigate. He returned grinning.